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<title>Alone by DragonsInkwell (Lafrenze), TheHuggamugCafe</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28869588">Alone</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lafrenze/pseuds/DragonsInkwell'>DragonsInkwell (Lafrenze)</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHuggamugCafe/pseuds/TheHuggamugCafe'>TheHuggamugCafe</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>You Deserve Better [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Tokyo Ghoul</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Childhood Friends, F/M, Follows The Manga’s Plot, Friends to Lovers, Implied Sexual Content, Kaneki is a moron, Loss of Virginity, One Night Stand, Reader-Insert, Shiro!Kaneki, reader is a moron</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:46:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>990</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28869588</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lafrenze/pseuds/DragonsInkwell, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHuggamugCafe/pseuds/TheHuggamugCafe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s funny how quickly you got used to sharing a bed, over a single night.</p><p>It’s less amusing to feel how slowly you think it will take to get used to sleeping alone again.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kaneki Ken/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>You Deserve Better [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2117172</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Alone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>My second standalone Tokyo Ghoul musing <i>and</i> series! I’m ready to vibe, yessir!</p><p>Before I forget, a quick but deeply thankful shout-out goes to my <b><i>deer</i></b> friend, DragonsInkwell (Lafrenze), for giggling with yours truly, thus being being half the reason why this is even a thing right now.</p><p>I may be the one writing this series out, but it’s because of my friend, Lafrenze, that this is even happening, thanks to us clowning around and giggling like gremlins.</p><p>So. Um.</p><p>Please enjoy the fruits of my and Lafrenze’s sadistic cackling?</p><p>Kudos goes to Lafrenze for the summary!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The whisper of a draft is what makes your eyes flutter open, lips pulling back into a yawn as you roll over. A hand reaches out, fingers unconsciously twitching, hoping to brush against a shoulder or an arm. A bubble of confusion rises inside you as you shift closer, thinking that it must be early morning sleepiness rearing its ugly head.</p><p>But your fingers touch covers that have long since become cool to the touch; ice softly nips at your fingertips; a matching sensation shoots up your arm, your shoulder. Finally, a trail of winter’s kiss worms its way down your spine, allowing a shudder to possess you despite the summer warmth.</p><p>“Kaneki…?”</p><p>His surname leaves you in a groggy whisper, bringing the covers closer to your chest as you spare a glance around your bedroom. A sliver of morning’s light shines in through the curtains, making you grumble under your breath. You exhale a sigh; of course you’re alone.</p><p>“Was it stupid of me to hope that he’d stay?”</p><p>Your logic tells you yes, but your heart tells you otherwise. You know because of a twisting ache forming there, where you know the beating organ is. It feels like you’ve just been stabbed with a knife, heated by a roaring fire.</p><p>You shiver, rolling over so that you’re lying on your side. The sunlight warms the skin of your back; beads of sweat trail down your shoulders. You bring the covers even closer to your bosom, clutching the sheets so hard that your knuckles blanch. You swallow; the gulp is thick. It, the wad of saliva, stubbornly clings to your esophagus as it travels down to your gut, where it flip-flops anxiously.</p><p>
  <em>“Hey…”</em>
</p><p>The ivory-haired “ghost” in your mind breathes your name, whispering it in a questioning manner. His voice is soft, so soft that you almost have to strain your hearing to catch it, but that’s nothing to the phantom caress of fingers tenderly brushing over your shoulder. In your peripheral vision you can almost swear to the Almighty Himself that for a few seconds, you see a glimpse of black nails; you’re certain that you can feel them gently grazing your flushed and sweaty skin.</p><p>
  <em>“Are you… up for another round…?”</em>
</p><p>For a moment and only a moment, there’s a shift in your reality, a break. The methodical tick-toking of your clock slows before stopping altogether. You suck in a breath, feeling the “you” in your memories smiling as she rolls over, meeting the sheepish expression of your childhood friend, Ken Kaneki.</p><p>
  <em>“You look cute when you blush like that…”</em>
</p><p>The statement is—<em>was</em>—breathed into his mouth as you dipped his face down by the shoulder, gently, to bring his lips to meet yours. The “you” in your mind breathes in and with it, both you and “her” take in the familiar scent of brewed coffee. To say you were surprised when he didn’t protest you calling him cute would be the understatement of the century, and that was being polite about it.</p><p>
  <em>“May I…?”</em>
</p><p>You “feel” Kaneki’s hand brushing over what little cloth covers your sex, hesitating before he’s full-on cupping your womanhood in his palm. Your breathing stutters at the mere recollection alone; despite the summer warmth, you can sense the heat crawling over you before coming to nestle between your legs. Your teeth worry over your lower lip, lightly biting the flesh it finds there.</p><p>
  <em>“May you what…?”</em>
</p><p>The question rings through your mind, resonating like the gong of a church bell signalling the start of mass. You remember giggling, quite clearly having caught his insinuation and you remember shifting, intentionally rubbing your thinly covered pussy against his hand. A feeling that you can only describe as being smug satisfaction washes over you, and you relish in the memory of Kaneki’s breath hitching.</p><p>
  <em>“You know what I mean… Stop pretending you don’t.”</em>
</p><p>It had taken you everything, every fucking thing you had, not to laugh as his heterochromatic leer flicked off to the side. You can still remember the way the ruby red of his single ghoul eye flared, contrasting with the dust of rose on his cheeks and the grey iris of his human eye…</p><p>
  <em>“Mmm… I don’t think I do? Why don’t you be a gentleman and show your lady what you mean…?”</em>
</p><p>The covers shift, betraying a rustle as your legs move and when they do, you feel the substance that’s sticking to them. It’s long since cooled off, stubbornly clinging to the inside of your thighs and the sheets that cover them. Your brain paints you an image of a “spectre”, a ghost with hair that remains you of falling snow raising a hand; a sharp <em>crack</em> of a knuckle breaks the silence. In your mind’s eye, you watch as his sclera is flooded with black.</p><p>
  <em>“…I’m a man… Just not gentle…”</em>
</p><p>In the here and now, you will literally <em>kill </em>to be able to beg to differ with him. With your childhood friend, Ken Kaneki. Sadly, all you have are your memories of the previous evening to keep you company, bringing the covers even closer to yourself, if such a thing is even possible. A chill rolls down your back like a languid wave of water, a chill that has nothing to do with the empty feeling in your chest as you sniffle.</p><p>
  <em>Lips blessed your skin with a shower of kisses. The sound of your creaking bed was complemented by the noise of skin meeting skin. Feminine sighs and coos; masculine whispers of honeyed words, betraying a hint of possessiveness.</em>
</p><p>Your lips wobble as you exhale, slowly; your vision blurs to a kaleidoscope of colours and shapes.</p><p>
  <em>“A-And you said you w-weren’t gentle…”</em>
</p><p>“Ken…” His name leaves you in a miserable whine.</p><p>
  <em>“Only with you…”</em>
</p><p>“Ken…” Your voice is choked to the brim with emotion.</p><p>
  <em>“Wait for me, please…”</em>
</p><p>“<em>Ken</em>…”</p><p>
  <em>“I’ll return to you, I promise…”</em>
</p><p>“Why…?”</p>
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